


Serve Me

by llcflms



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (it's just bound arms that's all), (somewhat), Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, also sylvain takes roleplay a little serious at times hmmm, it's okay felix you're a tsun but you love it, maid felix, mild bondage, there's too much of maid felix on twitter i can't resist it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 05:35:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20737061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llcflms/pseuds/llcflms
Summary: Sylvain gets Felix to dress up as a maid.





	Serve Me

**Author's Note:**

> so,,,, maid outfits are coming huh....
> 
> i blame the many beautiful art on twitter i saw of felix as a maid for this. @ the goddess sothis pls make this happen.

Felix is sure that his face is flushed red. He can feel his cheeks burning and from what he’s heard, whenever he blushes, it goes up his ears and pretty much down his neck. He loves acting as if nothing ever really bothers him but when he blushes so easily, no one really takes him seriously. And right now, even if he pretends his current situation doesn’t bother him at all, he’s sure that Sylvain isn’t fooled at all. 

Sylvain leans back into his seat, his arms placed nicely on the intricately carved wooden armrests. His smirk seems almost permanent as he stares at Felix, eyes travelling freely down his frame. The atmosphere feels heavy— suffocating even— from the silent intensity of Sylvain’s look. Felix looks away, fixing his eyes on the lacquered flooring instead. His fists clench into the soft cotton of his skirt. This is stupid. He shouldn’t have listened to Sylvain. He wonders why he keeps letting himself be dragged into stupid stuff like that. It had been like that since they were kids— Sylvain convincing him to get into something stupid and then being the reason he gets lectured by Rodrigue, Glenn or even Ingrid. 

_Father, Sylvain didn’t bring me hunting for frogs in a muddy swamp today, he just got me to dress up as a maid. _

Felix almost wretches at the thought of anyone seeing him like that.

“Felix,” Sylvain calls out, his voice deeper than usual, as somehow he has more power and control than usual— more power and control _over Felix._ Felix’s throat goes dry but he wills himself to look up. His cheeks are burning again, so much so it’s hard to believe that they’re in the middle of the nasty Faerghus winter. Sylvain must have noticed him blushing immediately and he grins, snickering as he speaks. “Come here, Felix.” 

Sylvain pats his lap and Felix gets the message. He hesitates for a moment before he starts to walk forward. Is he really doing this? Is he really _really_ going to let Sylvain play out this embarrassing fantasy on him? He stops right before Sylvain. He still has some of his dignity in him. He probably can salvage the remnants of it if he just turns his back now. He’s a Duke’s heir for God’s sake. Hell, scrap his position, there’s no one in the whole of Fodlan who would not lose at least some of their pride as a human being from doing this and for Felix, every tinge of pride he has is important for him. It’s part of who he is. 

As much as he keeps telling himself that, his body has a mind of its own, rebelling against his desires and reaching forward. He lifts one leg, resting it beside Sylvain’s, before mimicking the action with the other. He straddles Sylvain’s lap, trying his best to ignore the tent in Sylvain’s pants that presses against him. To get this turned on just from watching Felix— Sylvain really is insatiable. 

Sylvain places his hands on both sides of Felix’ waist, running them along the outline of his body as he continues to stare. Sylvain takes his time to take in the sight, just as he had done as Felix walked over merely seconds ago. 

“You’re beautiful,” Sylvain says, his hands stopping above Felix’s chest, right as the black cotton ends to be replaced by the thinner white one instead. Sylvain runs his thumbs towards the middle, till he brushes against Felix’s clothed nipples. He pinches them lightly, tweaking them lightly and Felix sucks in a breath. Sylvain’s eyes are fixed on his, observing and memorising every change in his reaction— the way he bites his lips when the thumbs press down, the way his eyes avert when they run lazy circles, the way his head leans backwards with a groan when his pinch. 

Felix shifts his hips slightly as well. It isn’t just Sylvain who’s turned on right now. Felix can feel himself hardening in the constraints of his leggings. Every squirm of his hips has him rubbing his erection against Sylvain’s, the delicious friction between his thin cotton leggings and the rough fabric of Sylvain’s pants making him move his hips faster. Sylvain has no response for a couple of heartbeats, before he lets out a chuckle and holds down Felix’s hips, stilling his movements and robbing him of the building pleasure. 

“I don’t think you realise your position, babe,” Sylvain teases. He rubs circles against Felix’s hips, bringing his mouth to Felix’s neck. He kisses the skin right beneath his choker, nipping it hard enough just to leave a small bruise. “You’re my maid now. You’re supposed to _serve_ me.”

Felix shivers from the heaviness dripping off Sylvain’s voice. Sylvain pulls back a little so that their eyes can meet. In the dimness of the bedroom, with only a small window being the source of light, it almost looks like his eyes are gleaming under the moonlight. He looks… almost dangerous— _almost. _

“What am I supposed to do?” Felix grumbles, trying to ignore the way the hair at the back of his neck are standing, acting as close to his usual self as he can manage. 

“You can start by being a good maid and calling me Master—”

“Never happening,” Felix cuts in. Sylvain looks like he’s about to argue but Felix is sure that he’s made it pretty obvious that he has no plans on giving in either. He might consider other things, but this is definitely crossing the line. 

Sylvain sighs, nodding towards the ground. “Get down.”

He’s done this before so he’s sure there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. He climbs down, kneeling in front of Sylvain, who parts his legs further to give him more space to settle between them. Felix reaches for his crotch, palming it lightly, looking up at Sylvain to watch for reactions and possible instructions. Sylvain is silent, even as Felix leans forward to press his lips against Sylvain’s clothed cock. Sylvain grabs him by the hair, narrowly avoiding the lacy headpiece on his head, and presses him down slightly, rubbing himself against Felix for a couple of seconds before pulling Felix’s face away. 

“Take it out,” Sylvain instructs. Felix obliges. It’s not that he’s being submissive or anything. He’d have done it even without Sylvain asking him to. It’s really not like Felix is someone who gets off on being ordered around. 

He pulls Sylvain’s cock out of his pants. It’s already fully hard by now, with pre-cum running down its sides. Felix sticks out his tongue to lick the stray liquid up, savouring the hint of saltiness that hits him. He gives Sylvain a couple of laps before he takes the cock into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as he starts to suck. His gloved hand wraps around what he can’t fit, stroking it as he sucks. He feels the thin cotton gloves plastering against his fingertips and palm, soaked from his actions. His head bobs as his move, Sylvain’s hand in his hair guiding his movements and setting the pace. The pressure Sylvain exerts prompts him to take more in. When he feels the tip brush against the back of his throat, he swallows around it, trying his best to ease the burning dryness he feels down his throat. He moans, the vibrations running down Sylvain’s cock and causing his hips to jerk as he hisses. Felix can feel his own arousal rising and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore. His free hand travels down, under his skirt, and he palms the rising tent. He moans against Sylvain again, prompting Sylvain to thrust his hips upward again. Sylvain tugs on Felix’s hair, pulling him off his cock. A trail of his saliva hangs between Sylvain’s tip and his lips, which Felix breaks by running the back of his hand against his mouth, wiping up any stray spit that had gotten on it. 

“That was nice,” Sylvain says lazily. His hand falls from the back of Felix’s head to his chin, his thumb running along his bottom lip. His eyes fall to Felix’s hand, which now remains hidden under his skirt. Sylvain smirks. “How turned on are you?” 

Felix doesn’t really know how to respond to that but he doesn’t really have to. Sylvain slides a foot under the skirt, lifting it up a little just enough for him to see beneath it. His eyes widen at the sight, probably surprised but very much enjoying the sight of Felix’s erection staining the white leggings. 

“Can we… continue already?” Felix grumbles, slapping Sylvain’s foot away and pulling his skirt back down. He gets up, ready to climb back onto Sylvain’s lap, only for Sylvain to hold a hand out and stop him from doing so. 

“Ask nicely.” 

God. One of these days, he’s going to make Sylvain regret everything. 

“Can you fuck me, Sylvain?” Felix sighs. Sylvain is pretty fond of making Felix ask for what he wants. This isn’t exactly new territory. He might have been embarrassed in the past, but Felix has been pretty used to that by now. 

Sylvain shakes his head. “As I said, you’re not supposed to call me that. Call me Master—”

“And I said no,” Felix scowls. 

Sylvain raises an eyebrow and then he shrugs. “Suit yourself. Be a bad maid then.” He leans back into the seat but before Felix is able to climb onto him, he crosses his legs. Felix stands still, confused, and Sylvain laughs a little. “Well, if you’re going to be a bad maid, I’m going to have to punish you.”

It would be a lie to deny the fact that his blood ran cold at Sylvain’s words and that his heart rate picked up at the various implications they had but Felix merely rest a hand on his hip and sighs. “What are you going to do? Spank me?” 

“Charming, but no.” Sylvain’s stupid smile doesn’t fade from his face, not even as he leans forward to rest a chin on one arm. He nods back down on the floor. “Get down.” 

Felix keeps his scowl but he takes a step back and gets to his knees again. “Now what?”

“Get down on all fours. Ass to me.” The smile fades from his face as he speaks, a more sombre and haughty disposition taking over— one of a punisher watching his new victim. He considers arguing back but his raging arousal screams in protest. He has no idea how far Sylvain is willing to take this game of his but what if he decides to end things here to— in Sylvain’s words— punish Felix for his disobedience. He does as he’s instructed, though he keeps his scowl on his face, obvious enough that Sylvain should know how annoyed he is. The message must have gotten across; Sylvain chuckles at the sight. 

The sound of rummaging piques his interest and Felix tilts his head backwards, trying to look over his shoulders to see what Sylvain is up to. Sylvain’s position hasn’t changed. He’s still staring at Felix with that lazy posture. He had opened the drawer beside him though, hands moving about inside of it. He pulls out a blue bottle after a while and Felix recognizes it as the oil Mercedes had given him sometime back for an injury. It had turned out to be pretty useful, so much so he had only applied it twice before he recovered. There had been a lot left over but they had found other uses for it. 

Sylvain gets up and walks over to Felix, getting down beside him and placing the bottle nicely aside. He pushes up the skirt till it hung bunched up around his waist. His bottom is only covered by his leggings which were so thin that it felt like he wasn’t wearing anything at all. If it wasn’t for the tight constraints the leggings had on his leaking erection, it’s pretty forgettable that he’s wearing anything at all. 

Sylvain rubs circles around Felix’s ass, hands moving much too slowly and gently for Felix’s liking. One of his finger snakes in between, rubbing against Felix’s entrance. The friction from the cloth causes a whine to leave his lips and Felix moves his hips in response, seeking more of it. Sylvain laughs softly, before he tugs on the leggings with both hands. It doesn’t take much effort on Sylvain’s part to rip the thin cotton apart. Felix groans as he feels the cool air hitting his skin. Sylvain resumes his previous actions, now rubbing his skin directly. His hands feel cold as well, almost icy. If circumstances had been different, Felix would have nagged at him to wear some gloves. 

He hadn’t noticed Sylvain picking up the bottle of oil, nor does he hear it being capped, being far too preoccupied with mentally cursing Sylvain for going too slow. When he feels the sudden coolness of the oil flowing down the crack of his ass, he hisses, back arching and limbs stiffening. Sylvain rubs it along the slit, circling his asshole with his featherlight fingertips. Felix forces the lump down his throat, waiting for the intrusion to come. He bares himself for it, waiting and waiting. Even after almost a minute, it doesn’t and when Sylvain withdraws his hand, Felix can’t stop the his annoyed whine. 

He hears Sylvain’s laugh again and his brain starts to function, though only barely. _This is a punishment_. 

“Sylvain, please,” he chokes out, fingers digging into the wooden flooring beneath him so hard that his fingertips start to hurt. But he wants this so bad— so so bad that he just needs to grab ahold of something lest he loses his mind. 

“Still calling me that, huh? Now, what should I do with you?” Sylvain sighs thoughtfully. He rests his hand on Felix’s ass, tapping it lightly as he thinks. “Ah, I suppose you could entertain me with a show.” 

“A show?” He turns his head towards Sylvain, who’s grinning from ear to ear. Felix almost wants to claw that look off his face. How dare he smile so innocently while Felix is like _this_? 

“Yeah, finger yourself. Let me watch,” he instructs. Even with an order as incredulous as that, Sylvain stares down at Felix like he’s the only light in his life, like the world around them is dark and grimy and Felix is the only gem that shines bright. It makes his heart palpitate wildly whenever Sylvain has those eyes fixed on him. No one else has loved him the way Sylvain does, not even Rodrigue and Glenn. It’s something Felix can never wrap his head around, even when Sylvain makes it a point to remind him every day. He’s thankful for it; he’s thankful for Sylvain. 

But_ goddess_, how is this even an appropriate time for this? 

He raises a hand, supporting himself as best as he can with his other, and raises it. He pauses, noticing that it’s still gloved, wondering if he should remove it, only for Sylvain to take it and guide it to Felix’s ass. He feels the oil being poured onto his fingers, coating it nicely till the tips of the gloves were nice and soaked and the oil stain starts to spread further down the glove. Sylvain pushes a finger to his hole, pressing it against it till it starts to slide in. He releases Felix, leaning back to watch, one hand lazily stroking his own dick. 

Felix pushes his fingers in, starting slow with rubbing his rough walls. He’s pretty tight from how tense the muscles are. He can see now why Sylvain always complains about how he needs to relax. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. He pushes the finger in further, curling it and moving it. 

“Another,” Sylvain says. Felix opens his eyes, turning to Sylvain, who has his attention entirely on Felix’s ass. Felix complies, pushing a second finger in, focusing as much energy as he could to spread himself, scissoring his fingers as he moves them. His mind starts to go hazy. His elbow buckles and he falls foward, face flat on the ground, sticking his ass higher in the air. Sylvain smirks at the sight of this new position, his hand finding its place back on Felix’s ass cheek.

“You wanted me to spank you, right?” Sylvain murmurs. He raises his hand and slams it down with a hard slap. Felix gasps, feeling himself clench down hard against his own fingers. _Fuck_, how could he enjoy that? This is ridiculous. Sylvain chuckles again— he’s surely having the time of his life now. “Another finger.”

As Felix starts to fuck himself with a third finger, Sylvain’s hands start to move. He undoes the ribbon of Felix’s apron, before unzipping the outfit, revealing more skin. He leans over, kissing and sucking along Felix’s spine. Sylvain’s hand travels below, locating Felix’s erection, palming it over the leggings. He knows he’s close to a release already but he doesn’t want to come just yet. He wants Sylvain in him. He doesn’t want to come from his own fingers. The frustration starts to build in him as he, ironically, starts to quicken his pace, adding the fourth finger on his own accord. He whines, rubbing himself against Sylvain’s palm. 

“Please,” he practically begs. “Sylvain, please fuck me.” 

“Even now you haven’t learnt your lesson.” Sylvain squeezes him in response, starting to massage him hard and fast. “If you can’t address me right, then come right now.” 

His movements are far too rough for Felix to control himself. He feels himself teetering over the edge and he tries his best to resist, trashing about uselessly in Sylvain’s hold. He squeezes his eyes shut, fingers moving faster and faster. He feels a part of him screaming at himself to stop touching himself but the pleasure is far too addictive. He can’t stop; he needs Sylvain to stop him— Sylvain, who doesn’t seem to show any signs of wanting to stop. 

“Sylvain,” he whines. 

“Master,” Sylvain corrects. His free hand grabs an asscheek, massaging it along with the same rhythm. Felix moans out aloud, his words a litany of _fuck fuck fuck_ and _Sylvain Sylvain Sylvain_. 

“Please. Please fuck me,” he sobs. He’s never fallen this low. He’s never begged this hard and this pathetically. Fuck, does he even have any dignity left, he wonders. Sylvain is licking and kissing his skin, his laugh sending breaths of hot air against Felix’s cool skin. 

“Call me Master,” Sylvain commands again and _fuck_. _Fuck_. Felix can’t take it anymore. He feels himself crumbling, his shell of honour and pride falling apart with every heartbeat. Fuck everything. Nothing mattered to him now than getting what he wants. Even if he has to drag himself through the mud, so be it. 

“Please, Ma-Mast—” His words are cut off with a loud moan that has him shuddering. _Fuck_, he’s too late. Sylvain pushes him over the edge and he comes hard and messily in the constraints of his leggings. His ass tightens ridiculously around his fingers, which digs into the walls as he rides out his high. His thighs tremble, before his body goes limp. His fingers slide out, hand falling to the side before his body follows, collapsing onto the floor. He’s breathing hard, covered in sweat, lying as a sticky mess on the ground. But even after the orgasm fades, he realises he’s far from satisfied. 

“I thought I heard something sweet,” Sylvain says and Felix opens his eyes. Some of his cum had seeped out of the leggings and gotten onto Sylvain’s fingers. Noticing Felix looking up at him, Sylvain raises his fingers to his own lips, licking up Felix’s cum. 

“You taste delicious as always. I almost want to have more,” Sylvain says, before he narrows his eyes and brings his face closer to Felix. When he talks again, his voice is deep and low, shooting right to Felix’s core. “Should I?” 

After coming so hard, the thought of doing more feels like a huge burden. He doesn’t want to tire himself out too much at such a late hour. It’s going to affect his performance in training again. But such worries don’t seem like a priority right now, not when his ass is still aching for the feeling of Sylvain buried deep inside of him and fucking him till he’s a pitiable mess. 

“Please,” Felix croaks out, his voice still a little hoarse. Sylvain runs his hand through Felix’s hair, pushing the loose strands out of his face. 

“Please _what_?” 

He feels his heart beating hard against his chest. He hadn’t managed to say it just now. He’s silent for a moment, fully aware that Sylvain is watching him, waiting for an answer. His throat feels dry though he can’t really tell if it’s from the embarrassment or from his (loud) moaning. First, he nods. Then, he opens his mouth and speaks. 

“Please, _Master_.” He regrets it immediately, hoping the ground would open up and swallow him whole and he could embrace and the sweet, sweet arms of Death. Sylvain flips him to lie on his back, a large smile blooming on his face. 

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” he laughs, pushing Felix’s skirt up to his hips again. “Say it again.” 

“M-Master.” Felix has to admit it’s easier to say it a second time. He’s sure it’ll get better, till it’ll roll off his tongue just as easy as any everyday conversation does. The thought of falling that far burns him up again. Really, _really_? Is this really what he’s reduced _Felix Hugo Fraldarius_— the heir of the second most powerful position in the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus— to? 

“Good boy,” Sylvain says before ducking his head between Felix’s thighs. He half-expects Sylvain to rip the front of the leggings as he had done the back, but Sylvain doesn’t. He licks the fabric, lapping up whatever he could get of the liquid soaking it. Felix moans every time Sylvain’s tongue runs along the outline of this cock, which continues to beg for more, direct attention. He reaches forward, but right as he’s about to run his fingers through Sylvain’s hair, Sylvain’s hand shoots up, grabbing him by the wrist. He looks up at Felix, a playful smirk forming on his face. 

“You really don’t understand your position, do you?” Sylvain sighs, getting up. 

He wonders if he should apologize, but before he manages to, Sylvain pulls him up to a sitting position and catches his lips with his own. Sylvain’s tongue slides between his lips, entering his mouth. When Sylvain’s tongue touches his, he’s sure lightning’s running down his spine. His whole body is alight, as if he’s hit by a thoron blast point-blank. Sylvain’s hand presses down on his lower back and Felix arcs his back in response. Their lips detach, only for Sylvain to bury his face into Felix’s exposed neck. 

“Syl— Master.” He catches himself amidst his moan, not willing to go through another round of punishment. Sylvain chuckles, taking the frilly choker around Felix’s neck between his teeth. He pulls it back as much as he can before releasing it and the elastic band snaps back with a loud slap against Felix’s skin. It stings and the pain courses right through him, straight to his groin. He shifts himself, subconsciously trying to find anything to rub himself against— the floor, Sylvain’s thigh, anything. 

Sylvain takes him by the chin, jerking his head to look at him. “I shouldn’t tease you too much. Do you want my dick?”

Felix swallows and he nods. Sylvain chuckles again— he seems to be really amused by all these— and he releases Felix. He leaves Felix seated on the floor as he gets up and walks back to his seat from earlier on. Felix watches in silent confusion as Sylvain takes his seat and leans back, his legs spreading slightly with his erection standing tall out from the opening of his pants. He strokes it a couple of times and nods at Felix. 

“Come here,” he says. Felix doubts he’s ever gotten to his feet as fast as he did right now. Right before he starts to head over, Sylvain nods towards the ground again. “Bring it along.” 

Felix’s apron had fallen off when Sylvain undid the ribbon earlier on. He picks it up and walks over to Sylvain. Sylvain pats his lap again and just like before, Felix climbs onto it, legs on either sides as he straddles Sylvain. He feels Sylvain position his cock at Felix’s entrance, circling it lightly. His free hand comes up to Felix’s face, calloused fingertips brushing his damp cheek lightly. 

“Serve me well, okay?” he instructs. His hand falls to Felix’s hips pushing him down slowly. Felix closes his eyes as he follows along, feeling himself being stretched as he sinks down onto Sylvain cock. His body shudders from the stretch he feels. He knows he’s tensing up too much and he tries his best to relax. 

“Give me that,” Sylvain murmurs, taking the apron from him. “Hands behind your back.” 

His mind still a little hazy, Felix obliges without a hint of resistance. He feels the apron wind around his wrists, before Sylvain secures them in place with a tight knot. Felix opens his eyes and Sylvain is smirking at him again, his eyes openly ogling at him. 

“Move,” Sylvain instructs. 

“Yes,” Felix whispers and when the familiar look appears in Sylvain’s eyes, Felix adds hastily, “Master.”

He moves his hips, having nothing to use to steady himself other than his legs are body. He feels the strain in his muscles and as he continue to pick up speed and slam himself down on Sylvain, he’s sure that he’s going to feel it for the next few days. Sylvain is leaning back in his seat, watching, waiting; he doesn’t move a single muscle to help Felix’s movements, opting to teasingly run his hands along his body instead. Sylvain tugs the top of the dress down and without the zipper being done up, it hangs forward, unveiling more skin. He pinches Felix’s nipples again, holding onto them as Felix continues to bounce on his dick. 

“You’re so sensitive here,” Sylvain teases. He twists them and Felix throws his head back, moaning something which sounds awfully close to Sylvain’s name. “I know that look. You’re going to come soon. Are you going to come, Felix?” 

“Y-Yes, Master,” he chokes out. 

Sylvain releases his nipples. One of his hand move to the back of his neck, the other moving to grab onto his ass, squeezing it till Felix lets out another choking moan. He pulls him closer by the neck, leaning their foreheads together. “You’re serving _me_. You can’t come until I tell you to. You can’t come before me.”

Those are instructions and Felix knows from just now what happens if he disobeys them. He quickens his movements, tightening his ass as much as he can. He will make Sylvain come. He has to to feel good himself. 

“I’m so close,” Felix whines out. 

“Are you?” Sylvain’s voice shakes as he speaks as well, much to Felix’s relief. The hand on his ass moves to Felix’s erection. Sylvain reaches into the leggings, pulling his dick out and finally letting it out to open air. Felix hisses, his hips jerking as Sylvain starts to stroke it. “You’re so hard and wet. Do you want to come?”

“Yes, please, I want to come, Master.” He feels Sylvain pulsating deep inside him as he speaks and Felix ruts hard against him. Sylvain groans out, quickening his pace on Felix’s dick. 

“Then come,” he growls and right after, his hips jerk upwards and Felix feels himself being filled by warmth. Sylvain moans his name as he comes, his grip tightening so much that Felix too is pulled over the edge, spilling over Sylvain’s fingers. He slumps against Sylvain, his body weak and limp as he tries his best to catch his breath. This is too much; he can feel the exhaustion weighing down on him.

“Master—”

“That’s enough,” Sylvain cuts in.

“Fuck you.” Felix discards his facade immediately and it surprises how easy it is to retreat back to his usual self. Sylvain laughs, shaking his head. He pushes Felix up a little, only to bring his lips up to Felix’s forehead and to press a gentle kiss on it. 

“You did well, Felix. You make a really adorable maid.”

Felix scowls, trying his very best to ignore the way his insides are blooming from the praise. “Sylvain, I swear to the Goddess, if you don’t shut up right now, I’m going to make you regret it.”

“Mm, if you say so,” Sylvain hums a reply. He undoes the apron around Felix’s wrist and as Felix rubs his wrists lightly, Sylvain picks him up and carries him to his bed. He had thought he was tired to begin with, but the moment Sylvain places him down and his head hits the pillow, Felix realises just how drained he feels. His eyelids start to droop but he knows he can’t sleep yet. 

“I need a bath,” he snaps. He feels just plain gross and even if it wasn’t for all the cum and oil on his clothes, he just wants to get out of the outfit in the first place. He starts to get up by Sylvain laughs and pushes him back down. 

“Leave that to me. You just get some rest.”

Felix scowls at him but his limbs refuse any attempts at moving again. He sighs, letting his eyes close as Sylvain throws the covers over him. It’s cold anyway. He’d hate to fall sick now. If his stupid body doesn’t stop him from training tomorrow, a cold definitely will. 

He must have dozen off because it feels like only a heartbeat later that he feels the covers being pulled off him and Sylvain starting to remove his clothes. He opens his eyes as Sylvain starts to peel the leggings off him, throwing it aside before he starts to run a damp washcloth along his inner thighs. 

“I can do that myself,” Felix grumbles. 

“It’s fine, I got this.” Sylvain pushes him back down again. This time, leaning down to kiss him lightly on the forehead again. “Just rest.” 

The thought of being pampered by Sylvain like a child makes his cheeks burn. He supposes Sylvain has always been like that— dragging him into weird messes but being sure to take care of him throughout. It’s almost nostalgic how Sylvain is cleaning him up now.

“Who’s the maid now?” Felix grumbles under his breath. 

  
Sylvain looks up at him, eyebrows arching curiously. “What was that?” 

“Nothing.” Felix closes his eyes and turns his head away. “Good night.” 

“Mm, sweet dreams, Felix.”

**Author's Note:**

> did i proofread? it's 2.30am man i have no energy for that,,, hope you guys liked this messy self-indulgent fic. i love sylvix so much please leave some kudos and comments. thank you to all who commented on my previous fics. i haven't come around to replying all but i will eventually. 
> 
> meanwhile my dimileth and fraldarddyd fics are crying at me to finish them and hopefully i do,,,, one day.


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